


Risks of Cohabitation

by servantofclio



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Arguing, F/M, House Cleaning, musical taste, other petty disagreements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving in together can bring up all sorts of unresolved issues. Fortunately, making up again is more than worth while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risks of Cohabitation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a ME kinkmeme prompt, before ME3 came out.

From across the room, Shepard heard Garrus sigh, and responded, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing.”

“I was just wondering if you have to use so many towels. There aren’t any clean dry ones.”

“We’ve been over this. My skin doesn’t dry as fast as yours, plus I need to dry my hair.”

“Yeah, but--“ Garrus emerged from the bathroom, and promptly stumbled over something. There was a ripping sound. “Also, are you physically incapable of hanging up the wet towels, or do you just not care that they’re all over the floor?”

“Maybe you should look where you’re walking, and then you wouldn’t destroy everything you step on.”

“You knew I had claws when you asked me to move in, so maybe you shouldn’t leave your crap all over the damn floor.”

“You want a towel so badly?” Shepard found one on the floor next to the couch, balled it up, and hurled it at him. “Here! This one feels dry.”

The towel wasn’t very aerodynamic, but he had reach and reflexes on his side, and caught it anyway, retreating back into the bathroom. Shepard glared around the room, and began half-heartedly picking up the assortment of datapads, towels, clothing, weapons mods, and other stuff littering the space.

“Shepard!”

“What is it this time?” she snapped.

“There’s hair all over this towel.”

“So? It’s dry, and the hair is clean.”

“But why is it in the towel?”

“Because it falls out?”

This time, when Garrus came out of the bathroom, he looked faintly repulsed. “It falls out of your head?”

“Um, yeah?”

“And it gets... all over the towel?”

“Yeah?”

“And... everything else? You’re telling me there are little bits of hair all over this room?”

“Uh, yes? It’s a major component of dust.”

“Shepard, that’s _disgusting_.”

“You said you liked my hair!”

“I like it fine on your head, where it belongs.”

“Well, it’s dead tissue. It comes out. That’s true of all humans, Garrus. Yes, there are little bits of hair on everything in here, and in the rest of the ship, and it was true on the first Normandy, as well.”

“Are you serious? All of you... shed hair... all the time. And the air filters don’t catch it? That just... it doesn’t sound sanitary, Shepard.” He made a gagging noise. She hadn’t even known turians could do that, and somehow it really pissed her off.

“You know what else humans shed all the time? Skin cells. There are little microscopic bits of dead skin on everything, too. You breathe them in all the time.” 

“Now you’re just trying to be annoying.” His eyes grew wide. “That’s what’s clogging the bathroom drain, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

“Do you ever even clean the bathroom, Shepard? There’s dried toothpaste all over the sink, and that hair cleaning stuff--“

“Shampoo.”

“--is stuck to the walls of the shower.”

“I’ve had other things to do! If it bothers you so much, you clean it.”

“But it’s your mess!”

THREE MINUTES LATER

She really should have seen it coming. The calibrations should have tipped her off. She’d had plenty of opportunity to realize he was a perfectionist. 

“I should have known you were going to be an obsessive neat freak. At least when it comes to _my_ stuff.”

“What do you mean? I keep my stuff neat too. Of course, I don’t accumulate as much crap as you do!” Garrus waved dismissively at the ship models (and their disassembled parts, and their emptied boxes that she hadn’t gotten around to tossing into the recycler), and the random Prothean artifacts she’d picked up, and...  
No. Shepard refused to get sidetracked. “I mean that you’re still running around in that scorched and busted armor. You just can’t stand to repair or replace it, apparently.”

He crossed his arms. “It’s fine. It’s just cosmetic damage. Besides, it makes me look badass.”

“Oh my God. Badass? Seriously? We can’t just look like reasonable professionals? We have to show off how much damage we can take every time we’re in public? I can’t believe you’re that vain.”

“ _I’m_ vain? Everyone in the damn galaxy hits on you, and you don’t even discourage them.”

“Oh! You!” She grabbed the nearest hard object (a datapad) and hurled it at him as hard as she could. He dodged, and it crashed into the door. “Nice to see your ducking skills have improved,” she snarled.

“I’m astounded by your witty and articulate rebuttal, Shepard.”

FIVE MINUTES LATER

“...and you listen to the _worst_ music. Believe me, I have seen your visor’s playlist.”

“At least I listen to something other than that techno dance crap.”

“I still can’t believe you thought that was going to be sexy mood music.”

“I picked it because I thought you’d like it, Shepard, since I’ve never seen you listen to anything else. Is there some kind of noise you prefer?”

TWO MINUTES LATER

“... you crack your knuckles constantly, and it sounds horrible!” Garrus shuddered dramatically.

“Let’s talk about just how noisy your damn armor is, mister.”

THREE MINUTES LATER

“Can we not fight?” he said plaintively. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you lately.”

Shepard wasn’t ready to give up. “Maybe you would if you weren’t spending all your time calibrating the Thanix cannon. AGAIN.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to give us a fighting chance against a Reaper.”

“Oh, are you saying I’m _not_ trying to give us a fighting chance?”

TEN MINUTES LATER

“... no, I think you’re being _picky_ and _obsessive_. About the guns, and about the freaking _towels_!” For good measure, she threw another one at him. It fell short. She hurled another one. This time it hit him in the head and got tangled in his fringe. He glared back at her, attempting to maintain some dignity. 

“If I’m going to live here, Shepard, I’d rather not wallow in the mess you’ve made.”

Garrus looked so silly with a pink-and-yellow towel hanging off his head that she stifled a giggle. It was hard to stay angry at him anyway. She tried to maintain her scowl, but didn’t think she was doing it very well. “If you don’t like this room, why don’t you move out again?”

“Maybe I will.”

She advanced on him. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” He looked down at her with narrowed eyes.

She smiled. “I think there’s something here you might miss.” She reached up and flicked the towel off, going for the sensitive spots on his neck with the other hand.

“Oh no,” he said. “I’m not giving in that easily after all the things you said.”

“No?” She leaned in, sliding one knee up along his inner thigh. She would have pressed herself fully against him, but his crossed arms were in the way. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to have to settle for someone so unpleasantly obsessive, whose armor is apparently so terribly objectionable.” He sounded a little breathless, so she knew she was getting somewhere.

“Maybe you need to remind me of your better qualities.”

He’d apparently run out of words, because he merely grunted in response. She twined both arms around his neck and ran her tongue along his jawline. “Or maybe,” she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes, “I just can’t resist a real badass.” 

He snorted, and finally slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Now you’re just trying to appease my ego,” he breathed into her neck, and she shivered.

“You bet I am.”

One better quality: he’d gotten good at undressing her. She busied herself nibbling on his neck and mandibles while he worked at the fastenings of her jacket and pants. She was a little surprised at how worked up she was herself, already flushed and breathing hard, rubbing her breasts against the slightly rough scale of his chest. He slid her pants off her hips and slipped one finger between her legs, running from front to back, working circles against her through the thin wet fabric of her underwear, all the while studiously avoiding her aching clit. She whined in frustration against his throat, and his answering chuckle vibrated all the way down her spine. 

She let go just long enough to kick her pants off and let her jacket fall to the floor, then moved back in to give him a dose of his own medicine, teasing around his waist and lower, along his loosening guard plates, but deliberately avoiding the most sensitive areas. Garrus growled in response, scooping her up and tossing her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce and barely caught her breath before he’d followed, leaning against her so she felt him fully emerge against her thigh, while he yanked off her tank top. She wriggled against him, reaching to pull his head down against hers, but he caught her wrists in a strong grip.

“Always in such a hurry,” he chided, but she could hear the edge of a laugh in his voice. “No wonder you never pick up after yourself.”

She raised her eyebrows, all too aware of the heat and weight of his body against hers, and of the pulse pounding in her groin. “And what’s wrong with instant gratification?”

“Nothing,” he said, transferring both her wrists to one hand, “sometimes.” His free hand traced a path from her collarbone down, rolling her nipple to stinging attention (she bucked into him, but the bastard wouldn’t move), before continuing across her ribs and belly and then sliding under the elastic of her panties. “But I’d like the chance to demonstrate the rewards of the opposite.”

MUCH LATER

“Well,” Shepard sighed happily, “thoroughness and precision do have their merits.”

“Glad to hear you admit it,” Garrus said with a laugh.

“I’ll clean the bathroom.”

“I’ll replace my armor.”

“It’s a deal.”


End file.
